


Our Beginnings: Aleksandr

by desmercia



Series: Fakes [1]
Category: The Creatures | Cow Chop RPF
Genre: Fake Chop, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-10
Updated: 2018-07-10
Packaged: 2019-06-08 07:04:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15238002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/desmercia/pseuds/desmercia
Summary: Alone in the dark, Aleks found his golden ticket.





	Our Beginnings: Aleksandr

Aleksandr always kept to himself. He no longer saw the point in reaching out to others; he was never around for long, forever being plucked up and moved from home to home. His foster parents were always adamant that little Aleks was trouble.  _Something in his eyes,_ they'd say in whispers to a tired social worker,  _He stares and never seems to blink. It's like he's possessed, haunted,_ and they would glance to Aleksandr and turn away. Sometimes Aleks saw them shudder. He didn't know if it was fear or disgust or dramatic flare. He stopped caring after the third time.

It didn't help that Aleks was a curious child. He would find a hole and keep digging, determined to unmask what lay underneath. If he caught the tail of a sentence, he'd try to stitch the end with a beginning. His studious eavesdropping had earned him many punishments, but that taught him one thing: _do not get caught_. So he learned to mask himself in shadows, to inch his way down an old staircase and not make a peep. It wasn't difficult; Aleks was a small child, quiet too. Skin and bones wrapped up in old tees and borrowed jeans. When he reached fourteen, baggy hoodies were added to his ensemble.

At his latest foster home, he'd been dropped on the doorstep of a couple who needed a shrink far more than they needed a kid. Aleks spent months listening to them argue as he slunk through the house like a cat. As he rummaged through their belongings (a drawer containing mildewy clothes, a photo album of unfamiliar faces, and a cheap but well-intended promise ring), he thought that maybe they weren't _bad_ people, just a persistently unhappy couple with no idea how to make it all better again.

This house was small: floorboards ached, wallpaper was faded in spots, torn away in others, and dust lined every surface. Aleks swore he would taste dust. Sound traveled easily through these walls; the old dog was snoring, the kitchen clock ticking, the floorboards bending as Aleks' foster father paced the living room, while his wife sat delicately on the edge of the sofa. They were arguing.

 _What is it about this time?_ Aleks thought. He pressed his shoulder against a door frame as he turned the knob. It clicked open. Nothing in this house was locked.  _They'll probably regret that._

Aleks peered inside the room. The hallway light cast a dull yellow across the room. A bookcase, a desk, a chair, a lamp without a bulk; it was the husband's office. The boy slipped inside, letting the door click and darkness descend.

As he dug into the pocket of his jeans, Aleks held his breath. The smell in this house was strange, not enough to make him nauseous, but it left a feeling of wrongness on Aleks' tongue.

He turned on the small flashlight and made a slow sweep of the room. There wasn't much of value here: three books, two magazines and a set of keys that opened nothing (Aleks had checked three weeks ago) sat on the bookshelf. The desk had nothing but a lamp, a pencil with a chewed tip, and a notepad. A small trashcan was overflowing with torn pages.

But through the beam of light and harsh shadows, Aleks could see the outline of something on the chair.

A box.

 _Now what is this?_ Aleks breathed. He crept forward, mindful of where his toes touched the ground. Over the past weeks, Aleks had sat on his bed and listened. The floorboards always groaned when the husband sat down. Aleks figured the boards beneath the chair's feet must be the weakest. He kept a foot of space between his toes and the rickety chair.

Holding the torch between his teeth, he reach out for the box. He could see now that it wasn't a box, per say. It was a briefcase; a black hard shell with silver metal edges. Aleks curled his hand around the handle and slowly lifted it up. He frowned, listening for any sound.

On a normal day, the couple's argument would continue on for another twenty minutes before the wife succumbed to tears and the husband stormed off. He'd either fly out of the front door and drive away to the nearest bar or he'd stomp his way past Aleks' bedroom and into this office.

Maybe tonight's argument would go longer. They weren't bickering about the usual.  _Dinner was cold, I'm picking the channel tonight, it's your turn to do the dishes, do you even love me anymore._ Tonight they were fearful and uneasy. The husband had come home with the suitcase and a wide eyed look of panic. He'd thrown it into his office, slammed the door, and dragged his wife into the living room, barking at Aleks to get lost.

Each family that Aleks had been attached to was the same. A man. A woman. The women would try their hardest to welcome Aleks. The men were less than enthused. It confused Aleks. If they didn't want him, why pretend that they did? People didn't  _accidentally_ foster children. There was paperwork and meetings. Aleks had seen the folders.

Another similarity among these couples was unhappiness. A dark cloud that covered them whenever their spouse was around. It had always confused Aleks, when he was as small as four and even now at seventeen. Aleks understood the concept of marriage— _to love and to cherish, till death do us part—_ but these people seemed to hate each other. He often wondered, how long did it take them to forget their vows? A year? A decade? It seemed like so much wasted time spent tethered to another lonely being.

Something in the suitcase was wrong, Aleks knew that. He set it down onto the desk, laying it flat. The gnawed pencil rolled to the side, tapping against the base of the lamp. It was a small sound, but Aleks' heart raced.

He stopped.

 _"We have an opportunity, Janet. Why can't you see that?"_ floated through the wall. It was followed by a woman's tired sigh.

Aleks hovered over the locks. They were half undone, straining around the contents. He clicked the briefcase locks.

_Pop._

He paused again.

No odd movements. No raised voices.

Aleks lifted the lid and the torch almost fell from his mouth.

Money.

Stacks of bills with small brown sleeves tucked around the middle of each bundle.  _Of course it's money,_ Aleks thought. He had never seen so much green.

If his first thought had been,  _holy shit_ , his second thought was,  _I can take this_.

He could see it—

Slam the case closed, throw open the door and make a run for it. They couldn't catch him. The husband was a big man with a bum knee and Aleks was young. The wife would cover her mouth in shock and cry for her husband to do something. Aleks could get away, get into the car, drive to the nearest city and simply disappear.

But they'd look for him, wouldn't they? There was a lot of money here.  _How much?_ He didn't have time to count it all but maybe... Aleks closed his eyes for a moment.  _Don't fuck this up, dude._ He told himself.  _This is your chance._

Of the movies Aleks had watched were true, there could be a million dollars here. Aleks tried to think, time was running out.  _Stacks of bills are given out in 100s, so one stack of $100s is ten thousand._

Ten thousand dollars. Just an inch away from his fingers.

The most money Aleks had ever held in his hands was two hundred dollars given to him by his second foster-mother when she'd bought him new clothes. He had been six years old and she even let him have candy. She had been the nicest of his foster parents. If he thought about her long enough, Aleks would even say he missed her.

 _Has he counted this?_ Aleks thought.  _And I can't just take one stack, there would be a gap. Even that idiot would see it... The first layer. Twelve stacks. So it's even._ Aleks had finally lost his mind. It only took three months in this odd smelling house before he'd snapped. _Do it,_ a voice whispered from the back of Aleks' mind. _Do it before he comes in. He'll never know._

When Aleks grabbed the first bundle, he smiled. By the twelfth, his shoulders were shaking silently and he had tears in his eyes. He cradled the blocks of cash under his hoodie, against his stomach, and carefully held them up with his arms. He just had to get to his room, hide the money, get his shit and—

Run away.

He got to the door ebfore cursing. The case was still open on the desk. He turned, edging around the chair. With one hand, he closed the case and moved it back into place.  _Stupid mistake._

Aleks opened the door, checked the hallway. The couple were still squabbling. He tiptoed to his room, bringing the door shut with his hip. He let the money fall onto his bed, spinning around to grab his bag. He was breathing heavily. He felt alive and afraid. It was an intense feeling. Aleks loved it.

He stacked the bundles carefully into his bag. He didn't want to damage them, scared that these bills would turn to dust at the faintest scratch. He took an old tee and covered them.

With the money hidden, he dropped onto his bed, staring at the blank wall ahead.

It didn't feel real. The adrenaline in his veins. The wealth in his old bag. He must be dreaming.

But it was real. And Aleks needed a plan.

He could leave tonight, while the couple was distracted. Aleks didn't have many belongings, and he didn't care about leaving clothes behind. He kept everything he treasured in a shoebox under his bed. Sometimes when he struggled to fall asleep, he would lower his arm to the ground and reach into the darkness, just to feel the cold box beneath his fingertips.

He grabbed it. Turned it around in his hands. It was old, nearly as old as Aleks, but it was sturdy. He'd treated the worthless cardboard well. Grabbing another shirt, he slid the box inside, wrapped up in soft fabric, and placed it in his bag. The money took up more space than he thought it would. Aleks glanced around the room.

He picked out an overcoat, pulling it on top of his hoodie. Fall was becoming colder with every day. He traded his trainers for boots, lacing them up as quick as he could. Double knotted with the remaining laces tucked up. He pulled a black beanie onto his hair, rearranging his fringe with quick strokes of his fingers, trying to get the loose strands out of his eyes. Sunglasses went into the bag, along with a few bars of chocolate. Everything else was useless.

Aleks stood before his door. Did he just leave? Or say goodbye? He'd need an excuse to go out for the evening, maybe for the night. Something so that they didn't suspect him until it was too late.

He sighed and walked into the living room. The bag felt heavy, and it poked into his back uncomfortably. His hands curled around the straps and shifted the bag into place. He cleared his throat.

The couple turned to him. The wife smiled politely, maybe relieved to have a break from the fighting. The husband frowned.

"Sorry to interrupt but," Aleks shuffled his feet nervously. His heart was pounding, he could feel the roar of blood in his ears. He glanced away quickly, licked his lips. "Can I go to the library to study? I forgot to take my card this morning so I couldn't get the books I wanted."

The wife nodded immediately. "Of course, Aleks." She stood up, brushing off her skirt, looking ready to throw herself into the role of mother. "Do you need a ride? You can take supper with you. Or money for a coffee. I'll get my purse."

Aleks raised a hand to stop her. "No, ma'am, thank you, but I'm okay. I've got money from last week. And I can walk. I'm meeting some friends. We're starting a study group."

The husband snorted without humour. "Go on then."

"Thank you both." Aleks nodded. He managed a smile. "Enjoy your evening."

The wife seemed grateful, her pale eyes following Aleks. Janet. Her name was Janet, he remembered suddenly. She had been good to him. From day one, she'd invited him to early breakfasts and walks around town. So eager to show off her home, her life. Her only child, a daughter, was on the other side of the country at college. Janet had told Aleks that she never called. And yet Janet was still proud and spoke so kindly of her child, her husband, her tiny, insignificant life.

For a second, Aleks was filled with guilt. He thought about taking her aside, handing over the suitcase and telling her to start a new life. Vows be damned. He knew she wouldn't. She was a quiet woman, who truly believed her love for her husband was worth giving up dreams for. So Aleks simply gave her a small smile and left.

As soon as the door shut behind him, he felt the urge to run.

Aleks looked out over the yard. They lived in a quiet neighborhood in a decent town. The sun was beginning to set, but there was still plenty of time for the night.

Aleks made himself walk slowly.  _Get to the bus stop and get the hell out of here,_ Aleks thought, looking over his shoulders.  _This is it._

Aleks had always wanted to go into the city—a  _real_ city, not a larger than average town with a shopping center—and stand in the middle of a busy street, staring at the midnight sky between towering buildings and glowing streetlamps. He wanted dimmed stars, shallow puddles, gridded roads, and impatient traffic. As far away from the isolation of his childhood homes.

It was a dream.

And for the first time in his life, Aleks thought he'd get it. He smiled at nothing and the relief in his veins turned into bubbling laughter.

**Author's Note:**

> Part one of many. I've been toying with starting my own Fake AH / Chop universe and it's going well so far (13k words, most of it nonsense). But hey, a start is a start.
> 
> I've been stuck in a loop of rewriting this instead of continuing with other parts, so I figured I'd post it here and get the series started. It's likely this will be rewritten or reposted as part of a larger story later on.
> 
> Until then, all comments are welcome :)
> 
> You can also find me at asableye.tumblr.com
> 
> Thanks for taking the time to read! Means the world to me.


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